Blood and Thunder
by Matyrfae
Summary: A series of moments in the lives of Maeve Hawke and her favorite apostate healer, rated M for later chapters...maybe.
1. Loss and Dreams

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bioware...yaddah yaddah, you know where this is going...**

The musty air of Lowtown filled his nostrils. A usually unpleasant scent, Anders breathed it in deep for once, delighting in anything that wasn't the Deep Roads. They had been through hell and back, fighting creatures of unspeakable evil…and now they were home.

Home…he had yet to think of Kirkwall in that light, but suddenly felt how right the term fit. He hadn't dared call many places home, had never been allowed the privilege, but he knew a great deal of the title was attached to the woman in front of him. She was what made him see this city of chains as home, without her he doubted he'd feel as attached. This troubled him a great deal, and a sensation of unease slithered through his mind as Justice voiced his displeasure. He shrugged Justice off, for the moment not caring what the spirit thought.

Hawke turned towards him and Varric, Isabela had left long ago. Her ebony hair was almost grey with dust and her pale skin was several shades darker, her facial tattoos appearing faded under the grime of the Deep Roads. Her armor was dented, the engraving across the steel stained with darkspawn blood. Though she looked a fright, Anders felt he'd never seen a woman so beautiful.

"I'm going to go see Mother and Bethany for a moment, if you two will wait for me, would you like to have victory drinks at the Hanged Man?" Her eyes sought out his, the glint of hope in them impossible to deny.

He sighed heavily, his eyes teasing, "Ugh, anything to put off returning to the clinic…" Her responding smile was dazzling and he despised himself for loving it.

"Would victory drinks include a game of Wicked Grace?" Varric asked.

"But of course!" Hawke answered as if Varric were an idiot.

"Then hurry your arse up!" Varric chuckled, patting her forearm affectionately as he moved to sit on a bench.

Hawke smiled at her friends, "It shouldn't take long, maybe Bethany will come with us!" She turned and all but sprinted up the stairs to Gamlen's Hovel, Anders momentarily thanking the Maker that she wouldn't have to live in such conditions for much longer.

"Ah, we're gonna be rich Blondie…" Varric all but cooed.

"We? What is this we you speak of? I was simply a bodyguard of sorts." He hadn't thought he'd get a share in the cut.

"Ridiculous! You expected us to have you tag along for nothing?" The dwarf shook his head, "You are far more charitable than you should be…"

"Thank you Varric…" Anders really wasn't sure what else to say. He hadn't found friends like the dwarf since leaving the Grey Wardens…and had honestly thought he never would.

"So Blondie, about your tells…"

"Maker's breath Varric!"

"I'm just saying you're bluffing is horrid and you need to fix it, hell, the Mabari plays a better game."

Anders moved to say some sarcastic come back when Varric's eyes widened as he looked past the mage, "Oh Maker's mercy…" the dwarf murmured, and his face filled with sorrow.

"What?" He turned to find Bethany descending the stairs from Gamlen's house…surrounded by templars.

"Oh shit…" He breathed hoarsely.

The younger Hawke sister cast them both a sad smile as she smoothed the skirts of her circle robes, right before jumping in surprise as the front door to Gamlen's house burst open.

"NO!" Hawke's war cry was deafening, the sounds of a struggle from within the house pierced the still air of the streets outside.

Anders and Varric watched as two templars flew out of the door, falling over the side of the stairs to land in a heap on the cobblestones below.

Maeve Hawke was seen briefly, lunging out the door before two steel gauntlets pulled her back.

"You mustn't resist! If you fight this you'll face the hangman's noose!" Knight-Captain Cullen's booming voice sounded from the hovel.

"YOU CANNOT HAVE HER!" Hawke shrieked in response, Cullen's body following the first two templars as she kicked him in the chest.

Anders wanted to intervene, could feel rage begin to build and ice fill his veins as Justice moved to the front of his mind, but something stopped him…froze him in place to where all he could do was watch in horror.

Hawke flew out of the door, leaping down the stairs and placing herself between Bethany and the templars. She drew her sword, Fadeshear glinting in the harsh sunlight. She lifted her shield up behind it.

"Sister…"

"No! They will not have you!" She turned back to face Cullen and the templars, "You have no idea what I faced down there, Bethany, a few templars can be easily dealt with." Her voice was an unsteady growl, her eyes bright with fury as angry tears formed in her eyes. They would not get her sister…she'd die first.

Anders saw Cullen stand, straightening his armor as he stepped forward with his arms raised in defense, "Your sister's compliance means your family won't face the consequences for harboring an apostate…you don't want to do this Hawke."

"To the void with you! You templars stain everything you touch…your evil far outstretches any blood mage." Hawke hissed, her sword slicing air as she swiped it between them, assuring Cullen kept his distance, "my sister has done nothing to warrant arrest, she is harmless!" The warrior cried.

"If only that were true Serah…" Cullen responded, his tone mournful.

Hawke felt a warm hand land softly on her shoulder, "Sister…" Bethany murmured. Hawke glared at the templars as she lowered her weapons and half turned towards her little sister. Bethany gestured for Cullen to wait before pulling Hawke over to Anders and Varric.

Bethany smiled as she faced her sister, "I want to go."

Hawke's eyes widened, "What?"

Bethany's eyes filled with tears as her lips trembled, as if she was holding back great emotion, "I'm tired of running Maeve. I'm tired of being a burden to you and mother, without me you two can get the estate back…you can live normal, happy lives."

"Bethany, n-no…" Hawke sobbed.

The tears finally spilled down Bethany's face, "I'll be fine, be sure to take care of mother." Her hands came up to cradle her elder sister's face as they pressed their foreheads together.

Anders had never seen Hawke cry…never, but the woman sobbed openly as she clutched her sister to her, "You write me every day." He heard Hawke hiss in Bethany's ear, "Every damn day and if the letters stop I swear to you I will go through that entire tower…floor by floor, and kill every templar I see!"

Bethany's grip tightened around her sister, soaking as much strength and courage from Hawke as she could, "I love you Maeve…"

Hawke buried her face in her sister's neck, drinking in the scent of elfroot and lyrium mixed with the faintest hint of fresh baked bread, "And I you sister"

"Come visit me okay?" Bethany's voice was a choked sob as she stepped back.

"As soon as I can, I promise."

"Take care Sunshine." Varric murmured as he grasped the mage's hand. Bethany squeezed his fingers affectionately before smiling at Anders.

"Take care of Maeve for me?" She whispered.

Anders stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Bethany before pressing a chaste kiss to the girl's forehead, "I'll do my best."

The girl nodded, sending one last smile Hawke's way before moving towards Cullen. The templars left swiftly and soon no trace of the earlier struggle was left save for the echoes of Hawke's cries ringing against the stone walls.

Anders and Varric turned to Hawke, who was now shaking. Tears ran down her face, leaving tracks in the grime caked on her skin.

Hawke dropped to her knees, pressing her gauntleted hands to her face as she fell to her side, curling into the fetal position on the ground.

"Hawke…" Varric murmured, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. It was the last thing she heard before the world went black.

. . .

The air was damp…her surroundings dark and dreary as Hawke opened her eyes. Her face felt puffy and swollen, her eyes gritty. Her head felt like it had been beat to a pulp by a mallet. Hawke tried to sit up, releasing a low groan as she stretched.

"I was wondering when you were going to wake up…"

She jumped at the sound of Anders's voice, and suddenly the atmosphere became clear. She was in Darktown, in his clinic.

"W-what happened?" She asked groggily, smiling slightly in thanks as he handed her a skin of water.

"You had a small mental breakdown, your mother wasn't much better off and I figured Gamlen was doing an admirable job of taking care of her, so I thought I'd focus on you." His honey colored eyes seemed sad as he regarded her.

"Thank you, mother already blames me for Carver…I have a feeling she'll find some way to make Bethany my fault too."

"That's rubbish."

"Doesn't make it less true." Hawke stared into the cooking fire in front of her, Anders feeling his chest tighten at the lack of emotion in her sapphire eyes.

"Hawke…"

"They were twins you know…identical, if it weren't for their difference in gender I doubt we'd have been able to tell Carver and Bethany apart." A sad smile had slowly begun to stretch her lips. Anders realized it was not the time for words and simply sat on the cot next to hers, settling in to listen.

"Father cried the day Bethany showed signs of magic, she was three…I remember watching him cradle her in his arms, crying into her hair while she kept asking him what was wrong." Her eyes slid closed, "I think a part of him died inside the day I entered Templar training."

"Why did you do it?"

"I didn't join the templars Anders…Ser Bryant, a very nice man in the chantry, figured out what my father and Bethany were but instead of turning us in he agreed to keep his mouth shut and look the other way if I promised to learn the techniques to disable them should they become abominations…I was thirteen."

"Do you have any idea what that's like Anders? To watch those you love dearly, waiting for the moment when you might have to kill them?" Her eyes brightened and she turned a harsh glare on him, "You claim mages have it the hardest but I have seen many a templar recruit scarred forever, their spirits broken by what they are forced to do…no matter what you think both sides have it hard." He moved to protest that point but she interrupted him, "I've seen many a templar suicide over the guilt of hunting mages…we aren't all horrid, many have good hearts and are just trying to do the right thing."

That silenced him, Hawke continued her stories, "Bethany and I were a lot closer to each other than Carver…I'm not sure why, but he seemed to always have a chip on his shoulders. Jealous of the attention us girls got I guess…" Anders remembered a moment where Bethany mentioned Carver used to nail her braid to the bed while she slept.

"You want to know something weird?" She asked, her smile becoming genuine, her eyes showing she was looking back to happier times.

"What?" He whispered, not wanting to break whatever spell she was under.

"Bethany and I…we would often fall asleep together, in the same bed. Mother said she would find us in the morning so intertwined she wasn't sure where I began or Bethany ended…and when we slept that way, Bethany and I would have the same dreams."

"I miss Lothering…we didn't have to hide there." She murmured, pulling her legs up and hugging her knees to her chest, "Bethany and I used to race through the wheat fields, ditching Carver whenever we could, he'd get so mad…" She chuckled, "We'd stay out in the woods for hours, braiding flowers in our hair and whispering secrets we didn't want mother or father to know…other children avoided us for what our family was so Bethany and I were our own best friends."

Anders wasn't sure why she was telling him this…why she was suddenly speaking of all her memories. He had ached for information like this about her, but she refused to tell anyone. He didn't know whether he was blessed or damned to be the one she finally confided in.

"I don't know what to do now…what do you do when the one thing that kept you going is suddenly gone?" He knew she spoke of Karl…

Karl had been special, his first love. It had destroyed him to kill the man, but Anders knew the real Karl had been lost as soon as the brand had scorched his forehead. He thought on the few days after Karl's failed rescue…on how he had dealt with the pain. Realization dawned on him as he remembered Hawke staying with him the first two days…how she'd fumbled about the clinic trying to help with the patients, but only managing to get in the way, Maker bless her heart. She had kept his head above water, had prevented his fall into despair.

"I don't know what you do Hawke…" He murmured as he stood, noting her surprised expression as he moved to sit next to her, "But you kept me sane after Karl, " He wrapped an arm around her and sighed in relief as she leaned into him, "and I'll do the same for you."

Hawke's shoulders began to shake, "T-thank you Anders…" She whispered shakily, her words choking off into a sob.

And he held her, made sure she knew she wasn't alone…and once she had calmed down her childhood stories continued.

She talked for what felt like hours, Anders still not completely sure why. He contented himself with just listening and being there for her. He figured that was really all she needed and doubted she would get that with anyone else.

As the sun began to set behind the mountains she finally finished her tales. They had rivaled Varric's in the entertainment value. There had even been a few moments where both apostate and templar had laughed so hard they cried.

"I guess I should get home to mother…though I really do dread that confrontation." Her mother loved her, she knew this…but the only way Leandra had ever been able to deal with tragedy was to lay blame on someone's shoulders…even herself sometimes. Hawke didn't know if she could stand another accusation laid at her feet though.

Anders instantly sobered, stunned at how badly he didn't want her to leave.

"You know…" He cleared his throat several times, "I know it's not the best down here, or the cleanest…b-but…you could stay here…if you, you know, wanted." His voice had trailed off to barely above a whisper as he began to fidget with the spare bandages wrapped around his wrist for easy access.

Maeve giggled; a strange show of girly-ness from the warrior, "Oh Anders, you know how irresistible I find your mumbling, but you must speak up if I am to understand what you're saying."

He decided to ignore the feeling of a blush warming his face as he spoke again, "You could stay here if you'd like." Her eyes widened, "I mean I know this isn't the palace you're used to staying in with Gamlen, but I try to keep things clean and organized."

"Indeed you do…" She mused as she eyed a desk spilling over with parchments and rough drafts of his manifesto.

"Hey I haven't been here in weeks, cut me some slack!"

She smiled; a true smile that reached her eyes, "Okay, as long as you're sure I won't be a bother to you and get in the way."

"No, you're fine…the clinic's been pretty dead today." He moved to place fresh blankets on his cot for her.

He had planned on staying out on one of the cots in the main room of the clinic, but as he placed another blanket over Maeve she grabbed his wrist, "Anders…could…would you mind?"

He knew what she was asking, and Justice wasn't having it. He was rooted to the spot, at war with himself. Finally he gave in, knowing full well he was damned the moment she curled into his side. There would be no sleep tonight; he'd be far too distracted.

"Thank you again Anders…no matter what you think you really are a good friend." She mumbled sleepily as she snuggled into his arms before losing consciousness.

Maker she smelled good…not flowery or anything girly like most Kirkwall women. It was hard to place her scent, and Anders was sure she wore no perfume. It was like the smell of fresh cut hay mixed with the sharp spice of a cooking fire…he couldn't get enough of it, and hoped she wouldn't find him a creep for sniffing her hair.

Sleep finally did come for him, and for the first time in two years he had a night free of darkspawn nightmares…

. . .

He knew he was dreaming. As a mage he was always fully conscious whenever he entered the fade. He'd never had this kind of dream before though…

He was surrounded by golden stalks of wheat, swaying gently in the breeze, the scents of wildflowers and mud filled his nostrils and he knew he was in Ferelden again.

"Anders!" A high pitched voice, like the coo of a dove sounded.

He looked down at himself, realizing he was a boy again…though why wasn't he in the Circle?

The wheat parted and a scraggly looking girl fell to the ground, quickly standing and dusting the dirt from her skirt, though all she succeeded in doing was make the dirt and grass stains worse. She was barefoot, her feet darkened by the mud of the field.

As her head lifted he knew he was staring at Hawke…though she was a lot younger, he'd place her at about ten years old.

Her raven hair was cut in uneven lengths that whipped about her chin, framing a pale heart shaped face that hosted the widest and bluest pair of eyes he'd ever seen. Her face was also streaked with dirt, only in the most adorable way. She was a wild child, just as he'd suspected. Her mouth curved into a devilish grin as she shoved him, "Tag, you're it!" She squealed before disappearing into the golden wheat.

He didn't think on the matter, didn't bother to wonder why they were where they were, he didn't want to, "Oh no you don't!" He cried back, racing after her.

And so they played, racing each other through fields of wheat and stalks of corn…drinking from a well outside of a town Anders was pretty sure was Lothering.

She chased him into the woods, both flopping to the ground in exhaustion once they reached a clearing. For a long time they laid there, no sounds but the wind through the trees and their heavy breathing.

"Maker I don't want today to end…" Hawke murmured to the sky. He liked how breathy her voice was, how much lighter it sounded with her as a girl. He loved her voice as a woman too, but this younger Hawke was just a girl…not a templar, not burdened with responsibility yet…just a little girl.

"Where are Bethany and Carver?" He found himself asking.

"Carver went into town with Father, Bethany is helping Mother who is baking bread…she kicked me out of the house cause I wouldn't stop eating the dough."

Anders laughed, a real laugh…he hadn't felt this free in ages.

Before he knew what was happening little Hawke was fast asleep, and he felt extremely tired himself…

"Oh I don't want to wake up…" He groaned. His last image was of little Hawke's sleeping face, free of pain and suffering…she was beautiful.

. . .

"Wakey wakey mage!" Maeve's cheerful voice sounded. He opened his eyes, spotting her blurry figure by the cooking fire. She was stirring something. Maker's breath if she was trying to brew potions…

"I made porridge…you didn't have much else food wise…I did what I could." He breathed a tremendous sigh of relief as he sat up.

"Ugh, how long have you let me sleep? Are there any patients?" He hurriedly stood, wobbling slightly.

"Hey, sit down…the clinic is fine. The worst patient here is a little boy who scraped his knee and I was able to deal with it, Maker knows how often I mended scrapes for Carver."

She pushed him back into a seat, before shoving a bowl of food at him. He had to stifle a moan as he took a bite, it was glorious.

"Andraste's blood!" She cried as she watched him wolf down the food, "When did you last eat?"

"A grey warden side effect…" He mumbled around a mouthful of food.

"Sure it is…" She hummed as she gathered her things, "Mother sent word with Varric, and she's worried about me and wants me home. I'm afraid this is where I take my leave." He stood at that, wiping his mouth with a napkin before moving closer.

"Will you be alright?" He asked, not wanting to spoil the good mood, but needing to be reassured.

Her expression softened as she stepped closer, laying a hand against the side of his face. It took all control not to lean into her touch.

"Yes, and it's all thanks to you. I have no words to express my gratitude…I honestly don't know what I would've done if you hadn't been there for me." She stood on tip-toe and kissed his cheek, "Thank you." She whispered, before stepping back.

The room seemed to burst into flame as her lips made contact with his skin, but he didn't dare show the depth of his reaction to her touch. "Anytime Hawke…" He stammered; his voice hoarse.

"I had the best dream you know, I'm going to have to sleep over more often!" Her tone was teasing. Maker no…he'd lose it completely with her so close.

He remembered his own dream and smiled, "What happened?" He asked.

"I was home, back in Lotherng…and I played with a friend." A secretive little smile flitted across her face as her cheeks held a rosy tint.

That stopped him…they'd…had the same dream. How?

"Oh I really must get going, thank you again Anders…see you at the Hanged Man for cards later?" She flashed him her best smile, the one that made it impossible for him to refuse her anything.

"Wouldn't miss it." He responded, watching her leave with far more intensity than was appropriate.

'Maker I'm doomed' he thought as she slipped out the front door.


	2. The Invalid

**AN: Like with Bitter Mana, these chapters aren't in any particular order, just FYI. **

"Hawke…"

Fenris was answered by a series of muffled coughs and wretching noises followed by a string of swear words. He took that as his permission to enter.

The Champion of Kirkwall was bent over the side of her bed, currently heaving the contents of her stomach into the chamber pot below. He winced slightly, but was otherwise unaffected by the graphic display of her illness. He had tended to both Danarius and Hadriana whenever they took sick and was no stranger to seeing the nastier side of disease.

Her hound was curled up beside her, snuffling and huffing in concern before turning its warm gaze on the intruder.

"Get…out…" Hawke's voice was frail and weak as she fell back against the plush pillows of her bed. The Mabari bared its teeth and growled slightly, Fenris knowing that all he would get from the dog was an intimidating façade. He wouldn't part from his mistress, refusing to leave the bed while she was sick.

"Very intimidating, in fact if you were to narrow your eyes and purse your lips I think I'd be able to manage a shiver or two in fear."

She wanted to slap the smirk clean off his face, "You've been spending far too much time with Varric."

Fenris nodded slightly, his smirk transitioning into a full blown grin as he raised a bowl in front of his face, "Orana sends more stew, and figured I'd be more likely to survive force feeding it to you."

"Barely…now leave the stew on the desk and get your tattooed elven arse out of my house before I stab you." Her voice had gone soft and affectionate as she began to snuggle into her hound's side, ruffling the large animal's ears as Marley huffed and snuffled back.

Fenris shook his head, "I have been instructed to watch you consume every bit and not leave until you fall asleep."

"Maker's breath…" Hawke hissed under her breath, blowing a tuft of ebony hair out of her eyes. Her pale skin was flushed red with fever, her dark hair plastered to her face and shoulders with sweat. It was obvious the room was far too hot but whenever they let the fire die down she began to shiver as if the room was ice cold.

"Come now, surely it isn't that bad…"

"You eat it then."

"Hawke…"

"Fenris every time I try to consume anything it stays in my stomach for maybe an hour at the most and then I'm in agony the rest of the evening, please…just put it on the desk and I promise to try to eat it later."

Normally he would have fought with her…argued that she needed to try to eat something. The stew really only was broth with a few herbs in it, but the pleading look in her eyes caused him to do as she asked for once.

"Thank you, now go home…you look almost as tired as me, and I don't want to give you this."

He stepped towards the bed reaching out to lay his hand on her forehead and the side of her neck, "Would you like another damp cloth?" he asked.

Hawke smiled up at him, "No my friend, I'm alright for the moment. Seriously go home…you aren't a servant of mine and your first acts as a free man should not be taking care of me. Go…spoil yourself, do whatever lyrium tainted elves do for fun in this city."

He chuckled before squeezing her shoulder affectionately, "Thank you again Hawke…I had honestly never thought to be rid of Danarius, I'm at a loss as to what to do now."

"Well, what do you want to do?"

"I don't know…"

"Well, not that I'm trying to tell you what to do or anything but you've hardly slept since you heard of your sister and now that the matter is settled you need to sleep or I'm going to end up feeding you stew and watching you cough up internal organs."

Fenris nodded, "Very well then, I'll come by in the morning to check on you."

"Fenris you really don't have to-"

"I WANT to Hawke…"

"Well okay then, Maker's breath….demanding little bugger aren't you?"

She heard a muffled, "You have no idea…" as Fenris left, closing the door behind him.

Left to her own devices, Hawke groaned loudly. She was absolutely miserable…her skin felt like it had been rubbed raw and her spine sent small shockwaves of pain through her body every time she moved. She had long since given up trying to breathe through her nose or consume anything without wanting to cry out in pain.

Marley nuzzled her shoulder, whimpering slightly, "Don't worry boy, I won't let him kick you out this time." She settled back into the pillows, eventually falling asleep.

. . .

Anders slipped into Hawke's bedroom just as the sun disappeared behind the mountains. He still had to be careful, if the Templars caught him he'd be made tranquil for sure. His secrecy was mainly for Hawke though…any who associated with apostates were executed on the spot.

He smiled as he turned to find her curled up with her dog, both sound asleep. Though he disliked dogs, he was more of a cat person, he was glad she had some protection.

Marley sniffed, lifting his large head as he regarded Anders, "Hey boy…is she feeling any better?"

The dog shook his head, whimpering slightly as he nuzzled her shoulder. Anders was worried the dog had woken her, but sighed in relief as she simply reached her arm back to pat the hound before snuggling further into her pillow.

"Can you give us a minute?" He asked the hound.

Marley gave him a pointed look, growling as he jumped down from the bed. Anders had hoped he would leave the room entirely but the great hound simply curled up in front of the fire.

He slid into bed beside her, pulling her close as he kissed the side of her neck. Her body curled into him, her arms sliding around his waist as she snuggled into the feathered collar of his coat.

"Mmmmm…." She hummed, "I'm glad you came." Her voice was gravelly, as if her vocal chords had been torn to shreds.

"How's your throat?"

"Feels as if I swallowed a rage demon and it's now trying to climb out."

"Ah, so this should feel good then…" She gave him a curious glance as he raised his hand to her throat, caressing her neck as he felt ice begin to build up in his palm.

She let out a low moan, the sound exciting him in ways it probably shouldn't have considering she was so ill.

"Fenris is an imbecile…magic is wonderful…Meredith can shove it." She murmured, her voice strained as the rest of her body began to shiver at the cold. Anders withdrew his hand immediately, throwing the covers over her as he rubbed her arms and back in a vain attempt to generate more heat.

"I brought more tonic."

She immediately groaned in frustration, "Must you torture me so?"

"I'm sorry love, but you need to take this."

"Blight take you." She hissed as he raised the vial to her lips. She took her medicine, grimacing and crying out in pain as she swallowed the slimy liquid. It left a bitter aftertaste that made her want to gag, "Maker what do you put in that stuff…"

"If I told you, you'd vomit."

"Excellent."

Anders let out a small chuckle at her irritation, before pulling her close again, "That's all I can do I'm afraid…I'm sorry." He kissed the top of her head.

She squeezed him, nuzzling his neck, "Just you being here makes me feel better."

The dog gave a high pitched whine from in front of the fireplace, "Oh stop it Marley, you know I'd be lost without you…" Hawke cooed over Anders's shoulder. The dog barked happily before returning to sleep, satisfied that his actions had been acknowledged.

"I miss Sir Pounce-a lot…" Anders murmured.

"I'll buy us a cat when I'm better okay? Balls…"

"Ooh, what kind of cat?"

"I don't know…nor do I care at the moment…come on, do the ice thing again."

"Maeve I don't think that's a good idea…you're fever-"

Her hands slid under his shirt, caressing his abs before reaching around to rake her nails down his back. This caused him to shudder, nipping her neck in response. It constantly baffled him at just how little she had to do to leave him aching with desire.

"Pleeeaassseee?" She purred. He groaned into her shoulder.

"Not fair…"

"Less complaining, more magicking" She ordered.

He gathered his energy, feeling the cold sting as the magic gathered around his hands. He ran them down her neck and shoulders, delighting in her responding moan as she arched her back.

"How's that?" He asked huskily.

"Wondrous…" She whispered as she kissed his throat, "Thank you."

"Anytime love." He whispered back, tucking her head under his chin.

She sat up slightly, unbuckling his coat and sliding it from his shoulders before tossing it to the floor. She then resettled herself against his chest, "You're staying tonight you know, I'll hear no protests."

"As you wish…" He laughed, kissing her forehead as he began to trace patterns against her back.

Hawke soon fell back asleep, barely able to stay conscious for longer than an hour or two. Anders pulled her closer, delighting in her warmth. Having a partner was comforting, and an unexpected pleasure after all the years of isolation. He had thought with Justice that he'd never be allowed such a blessing as Hawke. In fact he had done his best to fend her off, but she was a stubborn woman and he found he could not resist her for long.

He had been a fool…Hawke was the only thing keeping him sane, or as close to it as possible these days. He could feel the spirit protest against his feelings for the woman. Though he had to admit Justice had lessened his arguments against her since their meeting in the Fade. Anders found that odd, but decided it was a matter to consider when Hawke was better and he less tired.

Marley huffed, pacing around the bed to whine at Anders.

"No…it's my turn, you've had all day with her."

Marley barked, then growled in irritation before head butting Anders's back. Anders turned back towards the dog, "Do you really want me to wake her up and settle this?"

Marley stared at him for a long time before whimpering and whining as he made his way back to the hearth.

"I didn't think so…" Anders murmured as he closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.

**AN2: Two facts behind this chapter, I had the Flu when I wrote it and Marley is an actual dog, though the real life Marley is snoring as he sleeps on my feet and is probably big enough to be a Mabari's midnight snack...he's a total badass though, seriously.**


	3. Memories

**AN: Figured I introduced my warden for Bitter Mana, might as well introduce my Warden for Blood and Thunder, enjoy :)**

"You never talk about the tower much…" Maeve mused as she stretched. Anders didn't register her comment, as he was too busy admiring the way she arched her back against the stone wall she lay atop of. This seemingly innocent movement was very suggestive and the way she smiled, that little tease of a smirk which always drove him crazy didn't help much. He almost lost it when she let out a small moan as her bones popped.

"I'm sorry what?" He asked, hoping beyond all hope that her tunic would slip a little further down her shoulder, exposing her luscious neck. Sadly she sat up and straightened her shirt, fixing him with a look that stated she knew exactly what he was thinking. Damn those hypnotic, all knowing blue eyes.

"I'm up here mage" She purred, though her eyes showed she was teasing.

"And I see you up there, now what did you say earlier?" He felt his ears turn red with a blush and he prayed she did not notice. Damn her…damn her twice the little minx.

"I said that for all your talk of this circle, you never mention Ferelden's."

"Well see there's a reason for that…if I don't talk about it I can pretend it doesn't exist."

She lay back down, though now on her stomach with her chin resting on her folded hands. "Don't be an ass, I'm actually serious here…yes, I know bad things happened there but surely there were good times too?" She cocked her head to the side, her dark hair escaping its knot at the back of her skull to fall into her eyes. Anders clenched his hands into fists to keep them from brushing the strands back into place; he hated not seeing those eyes.

"Yes well…there were a few I guess." He murmured, his mind going back…back to rare bits of laughter and mischief managed.

"To quote the great Varric, that sounds like a story…"

"Oh it is." He smirked as he leaned against the stone wall, jumping slightly as an ivory arm stretched out and her hand, worn and roughened by sword play and field work, clapped him on the shoulder.

"And?" She asked, her tone making his smirk stretch into a full blown grin.

"And what?"

She groaned loudly in frustration which caused him to laugh out loud. He didn't laugh often, and he was slowly realizing he only ever did so around Maeve Hawke.

"Please Anders?" Her hand cupped his chin, tilting his face up to where she could look down into his whiskey colored eyes. If he were to lean an inch forward, and maybe stand on tip toe he could kiss her…Maker it was tempting.

He sighed softly, finding his resolve slipping, "Please what Hawke?" His voice had gone hoarse. She honestly could have asked anything of him at that point. Even to climb up the wall and ravish her in broad daylight before everyone…and a large part of him wished that was her desire.

Her eyes seemed to smolder, lips stretching into a wicked grin as she moved closer to rub her nose against his, "Tell me a story…" Her voice was breathy and definitely suggestive, like she was asking for something a bit more inappropriate than a story of his childhood.

His eyes widened and before he could react, most likely by lunging forward and crushing her mouth to his, she pulled away quick as lightening. Her laughter pierced the still atmosphere.

"Maker but you're infuriating…"

"I do my best kind Ser!"

"So you want a story huh?" He asked as he settled to sit down, his back still to the wall. There was a soft thud before Maeve sat down next to him, leaning heavily into his side as she sighed. Her head then rested against his shoulder and those blue eyes looked up at him through impossibly thick lashes, her smile turning sweet.

"Yes I do."

Well who was he to refuse her?

. . .

Maker he missed her. It was cold…so very cold in the entrance chamber of Kinloch Hold. He missed her hugs, her kisses…her tucking him in at night. He felt tears rise yet again as he realized he'd never see his mother again.

She planned to never look back. This was her life now and there was no changing it. The simple yet hesitant kiss her parents had planted on her forehead before awkwardly patting her on the back and pushing her towards the templars had cemented her desire to flee. As soon as the fire began to flash across her fingers they had feared her. Her family was ashamed of her, yet another mage child that doomed their noble line. So she hadn't looked back…

Sonya Amell looked around at the other children the templars had snagged. Her eyes finally landed on a tall, skinny, gangly boy in tattered clothes, gripping an embroidered pillow to his chest as if his life depended on it. He looked absolutely lost…and a bit frightened.

She made her way towards him, sticking her tiny hand out to grip his own, "I'm Sonya Amell," she stated, "so what did you do to get here?"

He stared at her as if she were an abomination. He reminded her of a newly hatched bird and she had to stifle the desire to laugh at him.

"Please tell me the templars didn't cut out your tongue…they often think it's that easy to stop a mage from using magic." She then gave him her best smile, deep blue eyes going soft.

"I'm Anders, and I…I set a barn on fire." He mumbled.

"Andraste's blood, really? All I did was light my governess's apron ties…not a whole building!" His father had been angry and scared…his mother crying as the templars had taken him away. But this girl…she thought it was impressive.

"Yea…it was a big fire."

"How exciting!" She exclaimed, glancing around the room they were in. Taking in the darkness, the solemn tapestries and the many templars before turning back to him with a wicked gleam in her eyes, "So Anders, what do you say we lighten this place up?"

Her hand was warm in his own, her confidence reassuring, "What do you have in mind?"

. . .

"Sonya!" Anders groaned, slipping deeper into the covers.

A pale, fourteen year old face peeked down at him from the top bunk, blue eyes not yet turned silver from the wardens, lighting up the room, "What?" Oh how innocent she sounded!

"I'm trying to sleep here…think you could stop kicking the end of the bed?"

Her tiny foot connected with the bed post extremely hard, causing the entire bunk to shake slightly, "Nope!"

He swore under his breath, "You're a wretch you know that?"

"You remind me often Blondie." She giggled, her face going from happy to sad in an instant. He felt his smirk begin to fade…

"What is it?" He asked, instantly moving out of his own bed to climb up to hers. His Sonya was hurting, and he was going to stop it.

"They took Sasha to her Harrowing…" She mumbled, her lips trembling. Sonya did not cry…refused to cry. This was as close as she got…wasn't it?

"Oh Sonya…" He murmured, pulling her into his arms. The rumors that they were a couple be damned, she needed comfort. Sonya was nothing more than a beloved sister, the only thing keeping him sane in this Maker forsaken tower, and he did the same for her.

"She hasn't come back yet…I'm not sure if she will." He felt her lithe form tremble, shivering even though the fires of the apprentice quarters were raging at full strength. He rubbed her back, murmuring reassuring things into her ear before lying down, pulling her with him. He threw the covers over them and held her, waiting until she was asleep before moving back to his own bunk.

Sleep was long in coming…Anders once again wondering why they had to stay locked in Kinloch Hold. He'd never seen a bad mage…only desperate ones who were terrified of being made tranquil. Though it would be several years until his Harrowing, he allowed himself a small moment to feel the fear…to face the anxiety and doubt. What did it feel like to be possessed? Would he feel it when the templars cut him down?

Cursing himself for letting it get to him he shoved his face further into his pillow, shrugging off the fear for another night.

. . .

"Sonya, you can't mean that!" The eighteen year old girl glared at him.

"Of course I mean it Anders…I'm staying." Her dark hair flew around her in the wind from the opened window, ice blue eyes bright in anger as her full lips tensed into a thin line. There were few things Anders feared more than Sonya's anger.

"But we could be free…" He begged. She had to come with him, she needed to.

"No Anders…we'd never be free, the life you're heading towards is a hard and bloody one that I don't want to be a part of." She stepped forward, grabbing his hand and kissing it, "I love you, like a brother…but I can't go with you."

His brown eyes betrayed the depth of his sorrow at leaving her and he crushed her to him, picking her up off the floor with the strength of his hug. Her arms squeezed him with equal strength.

She planted a kiss against his face, "Be swift…may Andraste guide you." She gave him a tearful smile as he pulled away, ruffling his blonde hair playfully, "And for the Maker's sake get a haircut!"

He laughed, though it sounded like a sob. He grabbed his pack as he slipped out the window. The building itself was easy to slip out of…it was the fact that it was surrounded by Lake Calenhad that made it hard to escape.

His last sight before turning and fleeing was her heart shaped face, now stained with tears as she waved good-bye.

. . .

He smiled down at her sleeping form. Sonya had changed in the year he'd managed to evade capture.

Trying not to wake her he slid into bed, pulling her close.

"Cullen…if that's you I don't care if it makes me tranquil I will fireball your ass faster than you can say Andraste's Pyre."

"Ooh, what a turn on…" Her body stiffened.

"A-Anders? Is that you?" She whipped around, her hands coming up to cradle his face.

"In the flesh!" He smirked at her, "So the tin can is still harassing you?"

He yelped as she all but throttled him with the strength of her hug, "Maker I've missed you!" She was used to his running off and being brought back, though she always feared he'd get the brand each time.

"I missed you too." He murmured; the one good thing about being brought back was Sonya. In fact he only ever really stuck around for her…

"Is this a permanent return hun? Or are you gonna leave again…"

He sighed heavily, "Sonya…"

"Damn it Anders, you promised!"

"Well I didn't think they'd catch me again!" She smacked the side of his head.

"How long?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean how long until I wake up to another flower with a note attached?" Her blue eyes glowed in the dark, wavy black hair falling into his face. She smelled of parchment and ink, mixed with a touch of elfroot.

"I don't know…I really don't Sonya." Her eyes became sad as she curled back up in his arms.

"Could you please give me an actually good-bye when you do leave? I hate your notes."

"I'll try." It was the best he could do.

"Fine…you know you're a wretch right Blondie?"

"No more so than you."

. . .

"So what happened next?" Hawke asked.

"I left the next month, was returned two years after that…Irving told me she had gone through her Harrowing and survived only to be recruited into the grey wardens. Never thought I'd see her again…but we managed to find each other in Amaranthine."

"You realize I'm related to her right?" Maeve murmured.

"I knew that the moment your mother introduced herself as an Amell. Also, you two could have been twins."

"Sounds like she means a great deal to you…" Oooh was that a hint of jealousy?

"She was and still is…probably the closest I'll ever get to family."

"Soo…she's like a sister?"

He smirked down at her, "Why so concerned dear lady?"

She punched him…hard. "Ow…" He choked out, rubbing his shoulder, knowing it wasn't the manliest of gestures but damn had that hurt.

"Why do you think?" She growled and before he knew what was happening her mouth was on his.

He stiffened in surprise but soon crushed her to him, she couldn't get close enough. The kiss was hungry, desperate even…and it ended all too soon.

"Well…" He mumbled, somewhat out of breath. She looked as shocked as he, her blue eyes as wide as an elf's.

"Oh shit…I'm sorry! I shouldn't have…Oh Maker I-" He silenced her with another kiss, this time kissing down her jaw and nipping her shoulder while her hands snaked into his hair. She moaned softly as he nibbled her neck.

"I'm not sorry…" He whispered against her ear, "But are you certain of this?"

She nipped his lower lip, tugging it gently, "Anders…I've been shamelessly throwing myself at you for almost four years now…what more do I have to do to get you to understand I WANT this?"

He kissed the tip of her nose before pulling her down to the ground on top of him, "I can think of a few things…" He said before kissing her once more.


	4. Sonya's Tale

To this day I still have no idea what compelled me to help Jowan. I had always been obedient…well, I pulled my fair share of pranks and made most of the templars go prematurely grey on more than one occasion, but it was all just harmless fun. No one ever got sent to Aeonar, or made tranquil from my mischief.

I passed my Harrowing, just like I knew I would. My friend Anders had always feared his, no matter how many sarcastic remarks or displays of nonchalance I knew he feared his…but even he passed it. I was fearful of the Harrowing, but I didn't let it cripple me…not ever.

I had fully expected to leave that chamber, shrug off the chill of Mouse and that horrid place, and go about being a mage. Studying at all hours, fine tuning my craft…these were things I looked forward to. And then Jowan approached with his eyes wide, begging for my help.

I met Lily and heard their tale and all was lost. Anders had had far too much influence and his last flowery speech on why the Circle needed to shove it where the sun didn't shine was still fresh in my mind. So I helped them…I kind of wish I hadn't, in the dark moments of the night when I awake from nightmares too grisly to speak of in daylight, or when I look at my love and know we will both die soon…far too early, but still. I place both hands upon my belly, permanently empty of Alistair's child and curse Jowan's name for the fate he gave me. The curse I ended up giving my friend…but no matter, there is no use moaning about it. It cannot be changed after all, my choices have been made. Looking back on it now, after all that has happened…in a way I'm thankful to Jowan too, though you'll never hear me admit that.

I remember arriving at Ostagar…how afraid I was. Duncan often found me curled up on my bedroll, shaking because I had never been outside before. I'd never felt the rain against my skin, the grass beneath my feet. Never watched the sun rise except through barred windows, and the fact that I was now out of my element, my sanctuary…Maker but I was terrified.

We arrived early in the morning, both exhausted but Duncan had immediately straightened his armor and helped me dust off the worst of the mess on my robe. Apparently the King was going to greet us. Somehow, and I know not whether it was the strain of all that had happened or simply because I really just wanted to crawl under a rock and never leave…but I wasn't in the best of moods when Cailan arrived. Wynne would have described my actions as "sassing" the King…I like to think of my behavior as "realistic" given the situation. Anyway, Cailan and I didn't meet on the best of terms but he took it in stride. Possibly my becoming a Grey Warden had something to do with it, I'll never know.

Then I saw Wynne, and the world seemed to right itself. I threw my arms around her and sobbed, scared out of my mind. I didn't want to be a Grey Warden…I wanted to be an Enchanter. She simply held me, stroked my hair like she always had and murmured in my ear until I calmed down. Once I was stable she told me that not often do we get to choose our paths, we simply have to follow to the best of our abilities and pray that the Maker watches out for us. I didn't fully agree with her on that, but it was still good to see her. Duncan pushed me along though, there was much to do.

It must be surprising…me, the Hero of Ferelden, acting like a newborn in the face of my new role. You've never grown up in the Circle have you? No…I didn't think so. It is like living your life in a box, never leaving it, never knowing what is fully out there except the tiny glimpses through slits in the stone walls…then all of a sudden you are out, the light blinding your eyes and all the rules and regulations and social etiquette you once knew is no longer valid or correct. Society in the Circle is a completely different one from the real world. We are cut off, you see…and so we never fully grow. I never did react to change well, and I wasn't about to start. So forgive my uncertainty kind reader…it didn't last long if that's any consolation.

My fear and anxiety died the instant I brought that silver chalice to my lips. Alistair and Duncan watching and waiting for me to die like my fellows…I did not. I lost consciousness, glimpsed a dark creature of unspeakable evil and awoke to find the world forever changed.

I was more aware of my surroundings, hearing the wind whisper through the trees at full volume. My eyesight sharpened…I could feel the blood rushing through my veins, my heart pounding in my ears. I felt…alive. I looked up at Alistair, not knowing he and I would soon fall in love, and seeing relief in his eyes…relief and sadness for he knew the path I was about to walk.

Then he and I were separated from the battle, set with the task of simply lighting a fire. I at first was angry, thinking that if the battle would be so easily won why had my life been thrown into this? I was no warrior…I wasn't even that great of a mage! Duncan wouldn't listen though…and in the end, if he had, we'd all be dead and the world overrun by darkspawn.

The Joining changed me greatly…but not so much as Ostagar, that battle left a scar that no matter how much I drink it never fades. Alistair had often voiced his hatred of Loghain in our travels back then…but I honestly believe his hatred has nothing on mine. I despised that man…would have loved to throw him in a pit filled with darkspawn and watch him be torn apart like the good men he abandoned, so many lives lost…and not just because of Loghain. I hate Cailan too. I grit my teeth whenever I hear of what a great leader he was. He was no leader…he was a fool.

He killed thousands just for the sake of a grand adventure. Believe what you want reader, but I know Cailan was warned of the outcome; I was there when Duncan practically got on his knees and begged the King to see reason. He refused, thinking it all a fantastic adventure story. What an idiot.

Alistair is Cailan's half brother, and no matter how many jokes Morrigan makes I know he is smarter and would make a far better ruler than Cailan ever was. He won't hear it; he just gets this adorable blush and mumbles something about ending up stranded without any pants.

After Alistair and I lit the signal fire the battle made a turn for the worst and soon Ostagar was lost, all our comrades slain and smeared upon the grass of the battlefield. Alistair and I were swarmed and all I can recall is this wave of arrows…all aimed at me.

I woke to find myself in bed, naked, with Alistair. It was not as pleasant as it sounds; Alistair was unconscious and covered in his own blood. Morrigan hovered over him with her mother, both women doing their best to heal the only other grey warden besides me. I noticed I myself was drenched in blood too and three arrows were sticking out of my shoulder and chest. I then passed out in horror.

Regaining consciousness found me dressed and alone in bed, Morrigan murmuring a recap of the battle's end as she sifted through a book. She was a strange woman, with eyes the color of gold. She laughed at the oddest moments in conversation, finding the whole of society pure folly. She clearly thought that she had all the answers and this irritated Alistair beyond madness.

She was a mage like me, though she'd never even seen the Circle. I was jealous…sort of. Clearly life outside as an apostate was difficult and I had much to be grateful for in confinement…but still, the kind of freedom she possessed was an object of great envy to me. Anders probably would have ravished her on the spot now that I think of it. The lad wouldn't have been able to resist an apostate goddess. But that is simply a funny thought, he is taken now and happily so. In addition I fear what would happen to the woman who even attempted to steal Anders away…his lover is indeed a force to be reckoned with. Bah, I'm getting side tracked.

The three of us, Alistair, Morrigan, and I ended up on an epic journey. Dragging ourselves all over Ferelden to gain allies against an army I was sure we had no hope of defeating. It was baffling, to me, that a barely out of apprenticeship mage managed to band together a group of rag tag mercenaries and saved an entire kingdom.

I saw so much. I won honor amongst the Dalish, braved some of the darkest depths of the Fade, and even put Orzammar's current King on the thrown. Me…just a mage. I still have a hard time believing it, no matter how close to the truth Leliana writes my tale it still doesn't feel like mine.

All the friends I made on that journey. My darling Alistair whom I know I could never live without, we plan on going to the deep roads together…no matter who gets the final nightmares first. Morrigan who I hope is well out there…dark things await her I fear. My beloved Leliana, who even now still visits when she can. Shale and Wynne left long ago…and I know I will never see my mentor again, Andraste guide her, but I hope to find Shale eventually. Zevran…an unforgettable ally and I say that with the utmost affection. No…not THAT kind of affection. Sten…a friend unlike any other I have ever met, I hope he was not on that boat that landed at Kirkwall. Ah, Oghren…what can I say about Oghren? Truly he is not a man easily put into words, but by the Maker he made me laugh. We all stood and fought, my friends holding me up when I could no longer stand. Without them the Archdemon would have won…I firmly believe that.

I faced down a demon and won. Though the cost was dear…and I still do not fully know how it will come back on me. Alistair pretends it never happened but I know better. As one of my newest friends likes to say, there comes a time when you must stand and fight, when you turn and face the tiger.

And now here I sit, alone in Vigil's Keep. Alistair is away on business, due to return soon I hope for I miss him greatly. Well, I'm not completely alone I guess. The Champion and Anders are with me…I must say I've grown quite fond of her. She is good for Anders at least, making sure to keep his feet on the ground when I fail to make him see sense. Trouble brews on the horizon for them both though…and I pray every day that they'll be able to overcome it.

Not really sure why I wrote this…I mean I now have two people who've told my story already. Leliana actually wrote my story down, but Varric seems to think it will spread quickly by word of mouth. Maker knows what the version will sound like by the time he's finished telling it.

Maybe I just wanted to tell my own story. It's not as grand as Varric's version, or as beautiful and elegant as Leliana's writings, considering the length of her book my version is incredibly short, but I'm sure it stands on its own.

I would write something flowery and inspirational here, end on a philosophical note, but I doubt this parchment will ever see the light of day again. Anders has challenged the Champion to a duel, and I look forward to watching Maeve kick his arse.

Whether you are a stranger, a servant, or the Champion, who has decided to finally grow a pair and snoop through my desk, I wish you well and may the Maker watch over you.


	5. Watch me Cry

**AN: Things get a bit angsty here...forgive me! D:**

Things were getting worse. Maker, who was she kidding? They had already reached rock bottom.

Maeve drained another mug of ale, already feeling slightly tipsy and this was only her second refill. She wanted to drink herself into oblivion, to not feel…the glorious sensation of being numb called to her like a siren.

Her mind went back to the events that lead her here, to where she planned to drown in her cups until either Varric went bankrupt or she died. She hoped it was the second option, not really wanting to burden the dwarf anymore than she already had, but sadly in her haste to leave the estate she'd left her coin purse.

Anders…what had happened to her Anders? He wasn't the gentle healer with the killer eyes and a smile that made her weak in the knees anymore. He had become something darker…something tainted and hostile. She never thought she'd ever wind up in this kind of situation…and she would have sworn on her life Anders would never have put her here, but she had been so wrong…so very very wrong.

Her hand rose to her face, cradling her left cheek as tears poured down her face. Maker it was still cold…the after effects of the spell not yet worn down.

Bittersweet anger slithered through her mind and for a few moments the thought of going back to the estate to exact revenge became near irresistible. But no…she wouldn't hurt him, couldn't.

Things had started out so well, she'd convinced him to take a break…to lay with her and just relax. She'd then opened her big fat mouth and the fighting began.

She just didn't understand…she wasn't a mage, but she had seen what they were all capable of and she couldn't help but think that Fenris had a point…it was a point buried under a lifetime of prejudice and harsh stereotypes, but it was a valid point nonetheless. Mages were indeed dangerous.

She had yet to tell Anders her full opinion on the subject, and had thought they were at a good enough place in their relationship to voice it finally. She didn't agree with Meredith, didn't think the Circle needed to be as strict as it was…but she did agree that it needed to BE.

Anders hadn't taken that opinion well, acting as if she had just stabbed him in the back. She hadn't and she didn't intend to.

"How can you say that?" He'd shouted, "After all you've seen?"

Yes, she'd seen her fair share of the injustice done towards his kind, but she'd also seen the very depths of evil a mage could fall prey to and it wasn't pretty. It scared her…how just one slit on his wrist could turn her beloved into a thing of unspeakable horror.

Her mind drifted back to their recent job for Meredith. How the elf in the alienage had killed his wife…smiling sweetly at her still warm corpse and murmuring how beautiful she had been…

Oh how she'd relished killing him, sinking her blade so far into his neck she'd decapitated the monster.

She gulped at her drink, gasping for air as she pulled away.

"Easy love, you'll make yourself sick." Norah murmured as she grabbed a tray of drinks, patting Maeve on the shoulder before moving to a table at the far end of the room. The knowing look in the waitress's eyes told Maeve, Norah had an idea of the reason half her face was purple and blue…the fact that the woman asked no questions made Hawke want to kiss her.

"That's the idea…" Hawke muttered, gulping down more alcohol. She wanted to erase this memory from her mind. Maybe if she got drunk enough it would be like nothing ever happened and she could go home and curl up against Anders and sleep. Maker help her…all she wanted to do was sleep.

Things had stayed at yelling, they always ended with yelling, nothing more. She had honestly not expected anything worse to happen.

They were at each other's throats, spitting venom, trying to say just the right remarks to stab and maim the other's heart.

And then she'd done the unthinkable…she'd reached for the manifesto.

That blighted Manifesto…how the papers mocked her day in and day out, always singing out to her that they mattered more and that they always would. She was second to Anders's Manifesto; he'd save those pages from any flame as her throat was slit in front of him.

In a moment of blind rage she'd grabbed the wooden box, holding every page of the blighted thing and thrown it in the air.

His face…she couldn't get the image of his face out of her mind as the pages had fluttered around them like snowflakes, some fluttering dangerously close to the fire. She'd regretted it the moment the box left her hands…

His form flashed blue as his arm flew out, the slap crashing against the side of her face with enough force to knock her to the ground. A dull ringing began to sound in her ears and her skin stung as if aflame before she felt the ice take its effects. She couldn't move…the world went still as if dead. It hadn't been the full Cone of Cold…but it was enough.

Anders had stood stock still, eyes wide as dinner plates with his hand still outstretched. He stared in horror as she had shivered and coughed, Maeve gagging as she moved to try to breathe. He still didn't move as she had stumbled out the door, slamming it behind her. She brushed past Orana, whose eyes were wet with tears, having heard the whole thing.

And now here she was, drinking and crying. 'Mother would be so proud…' she thought bitterly.

There was a heavy thud as the front door to the Hanged Man burst open. Maeve jumped as she saw who it was.

Anders walked towards her, his hair free of its tie, blonde locks disheveled about his shoulders and his eyes impossible to read. He looked far older than he was, as if what happened had taken several years off of his life.

She turned in her seat, glaring at him as he stood before her. She wouldn't speak, wasn't about to make this easy on him.

He examined her face, her brilliant blue eyes bloodshot from the tears that stained her cheeks. Her pale skin several shades lighter except for…Maker's mercy what had he done? The left side of her face was almost ice blue…a dark purple color showing the bruise underneath the spell's after effects. The design on her skin was like marble and even part of her eye was whitened by it.

"Oh…" He breathed, reaching towards her. She flinched and that hurt him enough to where he almost fell to the floor. He still reached her, pulling her into his chest and burying his face in her neck.

She felt his shoulders shake as his hands gripped her; he clung to her as her shoulder began to feel damp with his tears. He made no sound, cried silently. She remained stiff as a board, still not saying a thing.

"I…I didn't mea…I'm so sor…Oh Maeve…" He sobbed, kissing her neck before clutching her even closer.

It was only then that her arms slid up his back, turning her head and pressing her forehead against his, tears once again gushing down her face.

He pulled away slightly, their foreheads still touching as his hands cradled her face. His cheeks were wet with his own tears and his breath hitched as he stared into her eyes. There were no words…nothing he could say would make what happened any better.

"Maeve…" It was a choked sob.

"Shhhh…" She whispered, "Just…please just take me home."

He nodded before crushing her to him once more, "You know…" He whispered fiercely in her ear, "You KNOW I love you more than my own life." He picked her up, bridal style, before walking out of the tavern.

"Yes." Maeve murmured against his shoulder, "I know Anders." What she also knew, was that it wasn't enough.

. . .

"Where is he?"

Anders jumped as the front door to the estate flew open, his chair clattering to the floor behind him as he stood from the desk.

"Fenris what are y-"

"No!" The elf glowed blue, moving with inhuman speed towards him. He clutched the mage's collar before jerking him close, "You do not say a word maleficar!"

Fenris shoved him, Anders stumbling before his head smacked against the stone wall. Pain blossomed at the base of his skull and when Anders reached up to feel the wound, it came back bloody.

Fenris got right in his face, "I should kill you right here." The elf hissed in his face, "Slit you from navel to nose and gut you in front of her, you deserve no less!" He howled.

Anders had never seen Fenris express so much emotion…

"Fenris I-"

"Shut up Mage!" Fenris roared before punching him square in the jaw. Anders didn't even try to dodge it, he knew he deserved way worse than the elf was going to give him.

"FENRIS!"

Both men looked up, Maeve descending the stairs towards them. Her hair flew about her shoulders in ebony waves, blue eyes flashing brightly in anger. She wore nothing but a simple white nightgown, the neckline hanging off her at an odd angle. Exposing her pale shoulder and a great deal of her chest, the skirt billowed around her bare feet as she stormed towards them.

Anders couldn't help the sigh that escaped him, she was so beautiful…

Fenris swore in Tevinter, knowing she was pissed. Sure enough her hand clamped on his shoulder and she threw him across the room.

"What in the name of Andraste do you think you're doing Fenris?" She growled as she kneeled next to Anders. Her hands pulled him into her lap, where she cradled his face and examined his jaw, eyes briefly losing their anger in place of worry.

"He hit you." Fenris stated simply, as it that were justification enough.

"Yes, and we worked it out…this was no concern of yours."

"It is every concern of mine!" He raged. He at first had bristled with Hawke on many of her beliefs, and they had come to fight often after missions. But six years now…and then, on a warm night after reading lessons…she'd looked up at him and smiled, saying how much he reminded her of her little brother Carver. He'd met his actual sister…she'd betrayed him…Hawke hadn't and he was going to protect the woman he now saw as his only family with every fiber of his being.

"Fenris, calm down" She spoke evenly, but firmly, "I appreciate your concern, and am pleased that you are one of the people that watch my back, but this is between Anders and I not you." She turned back to Anders's face, the man looking up at her with equal parts love and despair.

"Please leave Fenris, I'll come over later and we can talk alright?" She didn't look at him, lost in Anders's eyes.

"Venhedis" The elf hissed before storming out, the front door banging against its frame behind him.

"Maeve…" Anders murmured.

"Hush now." She ordered him, "You've apologized enough, it happened and now it's done, please leave it be." It wasn't done…far from it, but she didn't have the energy for grudges at the moment and neither did he.

She helped him stand, not protesting in the slightest when he crushed her to him, placing soft kisses along her collar bone and neck before finding her mouth with his own. He carried her up the stairs, neither breaking the kiss.

. . .

Varric Tethras entered the Hawke estate carefully, ready to dodge any flying objects Maeve might be throwing as she normally did when she was pissed. He ended up finding Isabela lounging in a chair by the fire.

"Where's Hawke? I heard Fenris beat up Blondie pretty badly…"

Isabela smirked wickedly as she sharpened one of her daggers, "She's up with Blondie right now actually, probably kissing it and making it better" The pirate chuckled.

"So what brings you here Rivaini?"

Isabela shrugged, "A lot of things…mainly wanting to let the good doctor know if he touches one of my kittens again I'm going to skin him alive…you?"

"Bianca thought we needed to exchange words with him too."

They sat in companionable silence for a time, waiting for the couple to emerge.

Maeve soon entered the room, clothed in her usual house uniform, "Hey…what's wrong?" She asked as she tied her hair back into a messy knot.

"I thought you said you knew what you were doing Hawke." Varric began; his tone fatherly.

"Varric…" Maeve groaned, collapsing into a chair near the both of them.

"Hawke, just listen…be careful okay? You know you always have a place at the Hanged Man with me right? I can get Edwina to set you up with a great room."

Hawke smiled into the flames, "Thank you Varric, but that won't be necessary." She turned towards Isabela, "I'm guessing you're here to say the same?"

"Aw, if I say it now it won't seem as original…"

Hawke chuckled softly, "Well if it's any consolation to you two I gave just as much as I got."

"Oh really? Any chance you'll enlighten us?"

Anders descended the stairs, shrugging into his coat as he grabbed his staff, "I need to check on the clinic, shouldn't take long…" He leaned down to kiss Maeve's temple, his coat hanging a bit askew enough to expose his throat which now sported rather nasty looking bite marks. Isabela exchanged glances with Varric.

Anders winced as he stood, acting as if his back was causing him pain.

"I didn't scratch too hard did I?" Maeve murmured as she followed him to the door. He turned back to her, seeing her wicked little smirk and kissing her blind.

"The pain is worth it, I'll see you tonight."

"I'll be waiting."

She turned back to her friends, their catcalls rising in volume as the door closed behind Anders.

"Oh you little minx!" Isabela crowed, pulling her into a hug, "My kitten indeed."

Hawke laughed with her friends, shoving the trauma and despair back. She would deal with it later…though she knew this was far from over. The sickening feeling in her stomach told her things were about to get much much worse.

**AN: This was written to Eminem&Rihanna's song "Love the Way You Lie" Which in my mind fits Anders and Hawke's relationship in Act 3 perfectly...the codex states that Anders goes into severe moodswings and I can so see them getting into this on again off again, borderline abusive pattern.**


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